Run
by Nyhlus
Summary: ONESHOT. This story does not have a grand narrative. There is no rule change that saves the lovers. One unnamed tribute is chased by another, they fight, people die. A story about ones mortality and the connects we make with people.


Oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. The guy's right behind me. I've never run faster in my life. My heart's beating so fast I think it's going to explode. The sandpaper dryness of my throat, the aching limbs are screaming at me to stop but I can't, stopping means only one thing, death. I take a quick glance back, he's still twenty feet behind me but is slowly narrowing the gap. I turn back forward, surveying my surroundings. There has to be someway for me to escape him, rocks, a cliff, anything! But all I see ahead of me is more trees. Climbing a tree is impossible, he'd reach me before I even pulled myself up over the first branch. The fear and strain on my body is giving the worst headache. I can't even think, I need to keep running. My head is getting dizzy. Just focus on my feet, one foot after another, don't fall, god damn it don't fall.

There's no way I'm going to outrun this guy. He's a career, I recognize that much. He's tall, with broad shoulders and muscle. How am I going to fight him? He has a sword and I'm sure he knows how to use it. I grip the spear I have tied to my back. I've only got two days of weapons training. In a one on one fight I'm dead for sure. No, I can't think like that. I can do this. I hope.

I take another glance back, he's narrowed the gap almost by half. I can see the anger and fury in his eyes. I must look like a deer in the headlights. I turn back and survey my surroundings again. I need to think of something and fast. There has to be a way. Damn it, think! He's probably not expecting me to turn and attack, I should use that to my advantage. His sword is a scimitar, that means it's for slashing. My spear is for stabbing, and I have a reach advantage. I'll wait until he's right up behind me, turn around suddenly, and hope he runs into my spear. That's probably the best and only chance I have. For now I need to keep running, let him come naturally. One foot after the other. I look down at the ground and the uneven terrain. My dizziness kicks in for a second and I almost lose my balance. It's a miracle I haven't tripped yet. What if I trip before he catches up? No. I can't think like that. This is my one chance.

This is it, he's closing in fast. I have to time this right. In truth I have no idea when is the best moment. Maybe I'll just know? That's a stupid thought. Keep focused, listen for his steps, his heavy breathing. My hand grips into a fist, my stomach feels like I've been punched repeatably. Stop thinking! Focus! I take three more running strides that feel like I'm running on clouds. I then dig my feet in the ground as I make the sudden stop. I swing my body around as I grab my spear and wrap it in the opposite direction to my front. The whole motion happens in half a second but feels like slow motion. When I finally get a glance at him he's almost already over top of me. His sword is lifted over his head ready to strike. From my chest, my two hands gripping my spear lung it at him.

His eyes widen and he abandons his attack trying to dodge mine. And dodge it he does. The momentum in his sprint means he can't stop before it and instead forces himself to jump to the side. The edge of the spear catches the tail of his shirt, ripping it. My failed plan does not even cross my mind. I don't even think. All I see is him roll onto the ground and react. I take a second lung at him on the ground. Again he is able to dodge it. My spear stabs right down into the ground next to him. He takes a wild swing with his sword at my direction to draw me away. It works as I pull my spear up and push myself back to avoid the swing. This gives him plenty enough time to get back on his feet.

There is a second where we're both crouched down, weapons firmly gripped, and stare into each others eyes. I see anger, fury, and most frightening, determination. I would have wondered what he saw in mine but I could not afford a single moment of contemplation. All I could do is stand staring back, waiting for him to make the next move, because I wasn't moving.

He charges at me, even with my mental focus it takes a half a second for my body to register a response. Again he lifts the sword over his head, then swoops it down towards me. I lift my spear up horizontally and block it. The moment of impact was so strong I nearly lose the grip on my spear. He continues to push down on the sword with both hands, trying to break my spear's staff in two. I realize he's left him bottom open and kick him back. He falls back to the ground, he probably didn't even think I would be such a quick thinker. One unfortunate consequence though was I fell back onto the ground as well. I even drop my spear.

I pick myself up onto my knees. My hand scurries the ground searching for the spear as I keep my body, head, and eyes stay facing him. When I feel it at my right side I reach over both arms and grab the spear. He jumps to his feet, takes one look at me and then charges again. I get to my feet, and pick up the spear. He tosses his sword to his right hand and begins his swing. Oh shit. My left side's completely open. The spear is on my right side. I can't block this. I can't do anything to stop it. Oh god. I close my eyes, gritting my teeth, bracing for myself the impact. At the same time I lung the spear forward from my right side.

The cold steel slices into my side. The pain is unbearable. I scream out in pain as it lodges further in, But then it stops. I slowly open my eyes. The first thing I see are those eyes staring back at me, except the fury and determination is gone. All I see is pain and sadness. I look down to see my spear stabbed deep into his stomach. I can't bring myself to look at my own wound. I can feel how bad it is. I start breathing again, realizing I was holding my breath. Breathing is hard though, really hard, I'm forced to take deep breaths. My strength is quickly disappearing from my body. Soon I'm unable to grip the spear. As I let go, I begin to fall backwards. He lets go the grip from his sword and it falls with me. Less than a second later he falls backwards as well.

When I hit the ground, a rush of pain washes through my body. The pain was even worse than the initial contact. Probably because all the adrenaline is now gone. I stare up at the sky. It's cloudy, the sun is nowhere to be seen. A little droplet of water hits my face, then another. I imagine that there is a mighty closeup of my face plastered all over the country on every screen. I don't know whether that gives me comfort or sadness. I'm just grateful it is beginning to rain. The droplets of water sliding down my face help mask my tears.

So this is it huh? This is how I'm going to die, lying on the ground in the rain. Seems quite poetic in a way. I don't know how. I'm just trying to keep my mind occupied because the thought of not existing in a few minutes is too terrifying. I just wish I wasn't going to die alone

Wait, I'm not alone.

I lift my head up slightly which took all my strength. I peered over at the young man lying on the ground a few feet away. He's lying on his back with the spear sticking straight up out of his stomach. I can't see his face, it is turned the other direction. He does not seem to be moving. I wonder if he is dead. Then I remember no cannon has been fired. "Hey." I mutter, then wait. I don't know what I am hoping for in terms of a response. I guess anything acknowledging my presence would be enough. Over a minute passes and I lay my head back onto the ground. I guess it was a silly idea. I look back up at the sky, would have been nice to see the sun one more time. The moon too, and the stars, and my home, my father, mother. My breathing increases, not because it was getting harder, but I was getting more and more scared.

"Hey."

I turn my head in his direction. I still can't see him and I'm too weak to raise my head up again. I don't know what say back. "I guess this is it huh?" Is all I can think of.

"I guess." he says back faintly. I figure that's going to be it. I'm satisfied regardless. At least my existence has been acknowledged for a little longer. "Any regrets?"

For a second I'm shocked that he said anything at all, then perplexed at his question. Was he being sincere? The cameras are on us right now. It's not a play, because we're both dead anyway. No matter of medicine will save you from having a sword sliced into your side or a spear stabbed into your stomach. Maybe he had something he needed to get off his chest, or maybe he was allowing me to right any missed opportunity, or maybe he just wants to be distracted from the pain before he dies.

"A few." I say. At first I thought about what would fit my act for the cameras, the dry sarcasm I had been playing up. Then I realize there is no point, I am about to die. Might as well tell the truth. "I never got to say to my parents how thankful I am for all their support. I wish I hadn't been so cold and distant to people. That I never had sex. That I wasn't so down on myself and others. I never told the girl with the red hair in my history class how much I liked her." It felt satisfying, to get those things off my chest. "What about yourself?" I ask.

"Besides chasing you?" He asks back. This actually gets me to chuckle, which was incredibly painful. "I always wanted to go sailing. My parents did not allow me to say goodbye after I volunteered, only promise I'd come back. I never wanted to make that promise. I knew I couldn't keep it. And that I don't hate them for making me."

I do not know what to say. It is hard for me to believe someone would volunteer if they did not think they'd win. To be forced to participate by the country is bad, but from your own family. "You got pretty close." I say back. "We made it to the top ten at least."

Silence falls between the two of us. That probably was not the best thing to say and I know it. I mean who really cares where you place, especially when you're dead, nothing matters because you don't exist. "Did you kill anyone else?" He asks breaking the silence.

"One." I answer. "I was hiding in a tree when one of the boys came walking under me. I dropped a large rock I had ready from atop the tree down onto his head. He's who I got the spear from." I do not even need to ask if he killed anyone. "How many?"

"Three. Two at the Cornucopia at the very beginning, then chased down another a few days later. Oh god!" He cries out with clear disdain. "I killed a fucking twelve year old girl. She was my first victim too. Grabbed the sword then slashed open her stomach. Her intestines fell out and everything. Nothing they can do in training can train you for that sight." Him saying that reminds me of my own wound. I think about looking at it but realize I probably don't have enough strength to pull myself up and get a good look anyway, probably for the best.

Silence falls over us again, that image of the girl must have been haunting him and I'm not at all surprised. He probably does not feel like talking anymore, not about that at least. I think it's probably best to let him collect his thoughts. I sure need to collect mine. I wonder how long we've been lying here for, how much blood I've lost, maybe this is all a hallucination, my conversation with him, maybe it's all just a bad dream. A sharp pain from my side destroys that happy thought. I wonder has the camera's been recording us this whole time for everyone to see, or is there another fight going on somewhere in the area. I doubt it. "Hey man?" He asks. I can hear his voice is getting weaker, he does not have much longer.

"Yes?" I ask back.

"I'm sorry." He says to me. Tears begin to fall from my eyes. The way he choked up the last syllable tells me he's crying too.

"I'm sorry too." I reply, barely able to form the right sounds. My tears continue to fall as it starts to sink in these moments are my last. That I can't make up for the mistakes I've made. We could have been friends, he and I, I think. If the circumstances had been different. If we did not have to participate in this terrible game. A cannon fires. I close my eyes. He's dead. When I open them, I realize that I don't know his name, or which district he was from. We might never have spoken to each other before the games even began.

I continue to cry. I'm thankful though, if I was going to die in these games, and I'll be honest I always knew I would. At least this was not so bad. I was not alone. Not in the end, not even now. My breathing becomes more violent, I know this is the it. I gasp for my last breaths of air. I had forgotten it was raining. The two of us dying in the rain. We're just like the rain, falling from the same cloud, turning into our own individual droplets only to come together again at the end in a puddle. How poetic.

THE END.

_Afterword:_

_Well I hope you enjoyed my little story, It kind of speaks for itself. If I get enough of a response I may do more 'Unknown Tribute' stories._


End file.
